


Feelings Suck Ass

by Selkie55



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Anger, Angst, Consensual Violence, Deception, F/F, Hurt, Jealosy, Love, Lust
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-18
Updated: 2015-12-22
Packaged: 2018-05-07 11:43:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 8,766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5455310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Selkie55/pseuds/Selkie55
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Grr. These are always so hard for me to wrap up.<br/>I hope this pleases everyone. I love to read your comments and opinions, so please, keep it up.<br/>Thanks for hanging with me.<br/>:)</p></blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Root had become a mystery again - a ghost. MIA for months after their Mediterranean trip, Shaw had only heard a few brief snippets of conversation from Finch's end.

If she was being honest, Shaw was somewhat relieved not to have _that woman_ hovering about; with her flair for drama and predisposition to make Shaw as uncomfortable as possible, Root wasn't always easy to have around.

But she was nice to have around sometimes, too. She had an uncanny ability to show up when she was needed most, many times saving Shaw's ass. Shaw knew that this information came easily to Root, she _did_ have the Machine in her ear 24/7, but there was something else, too.

Something warm and familiar that spread out and bloomed across Shaw's chest not unlike that first belt of whisky after a particularly rough day. But Root was also sharp and dangerous - she could lure you in with her charms only to cut you for succumbing later.

And if she was still being honest - Shaw knew that the opposition of extremes that was Root was extremely alluring and almost impossible to get out of her mind. Regrettable, yes. Forgettable, not a chance in hell.

In the weeks following their tryst in Ibiza, Shaw's libido was in full swing. Root had ignited a spark inside her, and she was damned if she was going to wait for Root to take her sweet time coming back into her life so she could scratch that itch.

Root never called. Not even once.

\-------

Shaw had begun going to bars in different parts of town to cruise. Like tonight, she was in Queens at a neighborhood dive bar, eyeing an attractive blonde sitting three stools down. She was tall and lanky, a librarian type with thin, vulnerable wrists, full lips and pretty, dark eyes with just a hint of wildness around the edges - yes, she would do just fine.

Shaw raised her glass in invitation, beckoning the woman closer with a cock of her head and that dangerous smile.

The blonde sauntered over and sat on the empty barstool next to Shaw, crossing her long legs. "You're not from around here." It wasn't a question.

Making no attempt to conceal her desire, Shaw's eyes moved up and down the woman's lean body, noting her delicate hands, sharp cheekbones and sensitive looking mouth. She sighed audibly.

"Do you want to get out of here?" Shaw grazed a thumb across the tender pulse point of the other woman's wrist. 

The blonde threw back her head and laughed, "Does that usually work?"

"Uh, yeah - it does actually," Shaw conceded with a sly grin  

"What's your name?"

"Sameen," She said, not bothering to use a cover - she was getting _so_ tired of this.

"I'm Lauren," she said, as she stared into Shaw's dark eyes. "So tell me, _Sameen_ ," She took a sip of her drink, eyeing Shaw brightly, "who are you trying to forget?"

\-------

As a rule, Shaw did not bring people to her place but Lauren was a lucky find - an intoxicating blend of smart, vulnerable, snarky and hot. A dizzying combination that sent Shaw's body _way_ into overdrive.

Behind the closed door of Shaw's apartment, they waste no time -- ripping at each other's clothing, lips gnashing, pointed teeth tearing at tender skin. Sharp nails rake brutally down Shaw's torso as her hand reaches deep inside Lauren - pushing, pulling, breaking past any remaining boundaries -- _taking her_ \-- and in so doing, Shaw's body is finally able to loosen, her chest relaxes and she can breathe easily, _she's swimming and everything is fine. All fine_.

\-------

_Root_. She can't get to her, her feet won't move, but then... she's crawling to her, on her hands and knees through tunnels of broken glass and shrapnel -- one objective: Find Root. Fragments assault her - all dark hair, creamy skin and doe eyes... she's tumbling, in the surf or in space, desperately searching for a trace, a whisper -- something. _Root_.

 "Are you okay?"

Sweaty and clammy, Shaw gasps for air as she spirals out of the dream, looking up at the other woman with big, dark eyes -- poised to attack.

"Shhh," Lauren rubs her thumb gently over Shaw's damp, furrowed brow, "go back to sleep, sweetie." And strangely enough, she does, her arms wound tightly around a warm, naked stranger.

\-------

Shaw _hated_ sleeping with people. She chalks it up to being exhausted and silently vows never to repeat the mistake as she slips out of her own apartment at 0500, leaving a nude, sleeping blonde in her bed.

\-------

Lauren _never_ spent the night with anyone she picked up - it was one of her few hard and fast rules. But last night, after their lust was spent, something compelled her to stay for the simple reason that Sameen needed her; a purely altruistic moment for an otherwise unscrupulous woman.

She found her jeans in the foyer and was slipping into them when she realized that she was not alone. A very pretty woman sat in a tattered armchair, bloody and bruised, her fingers curled around a semi-automatic pistol.

"Enjoy fucking my girlfriend?"

 

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

"I asked you a question," she hissed while holding her side, obviously in a great deal of pain.

"You might want to have the commitment talk with your (air quotes) girlfriend if she's picking up strangers in bars," Lauren offered casually, as she slipped into her sweater. "I think you need a doctor."

Root gripped the pistol tighter, she knew she only had so much consciousness left and she was not about to pass out in front of this bitch. She got to her feet and faltered, misjudging the distance between chair and the coffee table. She went down fast, but there was no impact, instead she felt strong, lean arms slip around her, cushioning her fall. "I need an ambulance," was all she heard before the dark edges eclipsed into total blackness.

\-------

"Ms. Shaw," came Harold's worried voice over her earpiece, "I need you to go down to Mercy General immediately."

"Can you be a little more specific, Harold?" Shaw grunted around a large bite of breakfast burrito.

"Ms. Groves has been injured and she's heading into surgery presently--" Shaw was on her feet and running before Harold could finish.

"What floor, Harold?" She was racing through hospital corridors like a rat in a maze, every corner leading to a dead end.

"Caucasian female, early to mid thirties, presents with GSW to abdomen, punctured lung and possible sepsis..." Shaw's knife was trained on the doctor before she could complete her dictation, "Take me to her."

The young, wide eyed resident leads Shaw into a trauma suite, both wearing scrubs and masks. Shaw can see Root lying on a gurney parked in the corridor, waiting to be taken into surgery. Her mouth goes dry as she approaches her, unmistakable even in this harsh, unforgiving light. Shaw can't deny it - there's only one Root - only one person who ever made her feel anything at all.

"Did you miss me?" She uses their tired, old line as she threads her fingers through Root's.

"What are you doing here?" Root tries to wrestle her hand _away_ from Shaw and won't look up.

Shaw stammers, confused, "Uh, Harold told me you were here, hurt -- I... Why didn't you _call_ me?"

Just then Reese and Fusco come into view through the glass double doors, worried expressions clouding their faces.

"I came by your place this morning but you had already left..." Root said coldly, craning her head away from Shaw as two orderlies came to take her into surgery. Shaw's eyes were large as saucers as she waited for the rest, every nerve alert and screaming.

"Your new _girlfriend_ seems nice," Root called out as she was being wheeled away into the OR. She heard a sickening _thwack_ , _thwack_ , _thwack_ \- the unmistakable sound of Shaw's fist connecting with the unyielding cinder block wall.

\-------

"Hey - hey calm down," John soothed. "She's gonna be alright," he had both of his arms wrapped tightly around her, holding her back as she valiantly tried to get through the operating room doors again.

"You trying to get arrested or something?" Fusco chimed in, snacking on a packet of crisps. "It's gonna take more than a gunshot wound and collapsed lung to take Coco Puffs outta the game."

Shaw was on him in seconds, lunging for his throat. "I _ever_ hear you call her that again, I'll kill you with my bare hands." She spat, the crack in her voice betraying her.

"Easy, Shaw," John kept repeating like a mantra. "It's gonna be ok."

"Sorry, geez." Fusco exclaimed, rubbing at his neck. "Partner, you better get her outta here before they decide to press charges."

\-------

"What was that all about?" John wanted to know as he taped up Shaw's knuckles back at the subway station.

"Nothing," she was quick to say, not looking up.

"Didn't look like nothing." He said softly.

But Shaw remained silent and John knew her well enough not to push it.

In all the years he had known her, he had never seen fear in her eyes. Save for today, in the hospital with Root, John had seen a terror in Shaw's eyes that he recognized all too well. That look was unmistakable - the panic that comes from loving someone desperately and feeling equally powerless to keep them from harm.

"It helps if you talk about it," he said gently, as Shaw busied herself, gathering up the bloody gauze and wrappers.

"Nothing to talk about," she said, feigning a nonchalance that she did not feel.

John and Finch exchange worried glances behind her back.

\-------

"Sorry Ma'am, there's no King listed in this hospital."

"She would have just come out of surgery," Shaw pressed, "please look again."

"No Ma'am, I'm sorry," came the nasally voice on the other end of the line, "you may want to check with another hospital."

 _Fuck Fuck Fuck_.

Shaw would go down there herself, but Fusco assured her that she would be promptly arrested and she didn't doubt him. Her behavior had been way over the top, even for her.

Taking a deep breath, she turned on her earpiece, "Finch, where's Root?"

"Hello Ms. Shaw," Harold began cheerily, "you'll be happy to know that Ms. Groves is healthy and recuperating safely."

" _Where_ is she, Finch?"

"Ms. Shaw, I'm afraid that Ms. Groves is very weak and needs time to recover away from work demands for the time being."

"Where is she?" She pressed, knowing full well what Finch was trying to tell her, she just couldn't stop herself. She saw the train coming and knew she'd never get off the tracks in time. She didn't even try. 

"I'm very sorry, Ms. Shaw, but Ms. Groves has asked that you stay away." Harold cringed, it broke his heart to hurt her like this, but he knew it must be said.

Her hands had begun to tremble and she bit down hard on her lip to keep from unraveling completely.

"Miss Shaw?"

The line went silent.

\-------

Thoughts of Root haunt her- invades her consciousness and won't let go. The memory of her scent clings to Shaw's skin, sticky and sweet and undeniable. Shaw knows she's drowning and she simply doesn't care as she finishes another bottle, sending it crashing into the bin with the rest of the empties.

\-------

"So, uh..." John began, uncertain how best to proceed, "everything ok with you and Shaw?"

"Absolutely," she replied cheerfully, the smile not reaching her eyes.

"Root, I know you and I haven't been exactly close, but I want you to know that you can talk to me and I'll listen."

"Thank you, John." She said sadly, shutting her eyes against the pain. 

\-------

Shaw came into the station the following day hungover and reeking of alcohol. She plopped down on Bear's bed and rubbed her face into his fur, hugging him tightly.

"Ms. Shaw," Harold began tentatively as he cleared his throat, "you don't look well."

"I'm fine, Harold. Do we have a new number or what?"

"Not today, Ms. Shaw." Harold said coolly. "Today I must insist that you return to your apartment and get some rest."

"For gods sake, Harold," She huffed, "I'm here and I'm fine. Just tell me where to go."

"Go home, Ms. Shaw."


	3. Chapter 3

"I'm concerned about Ms. Shaw," Harold said to John, as he came in carrying a box of doughnuts.

John looked around, "Where is she?"

"I had to send her home." Harold's lips were pursed into a thin, tight line.

"What's going on, Finch?"

"There seems to be some discord between Ms. Shaw and Ms. Groves, and the former doesn't seem to be coping very well."

"Did something happen?" John proceeded carefully, uncertain about the extent of Harold's knowledge of the subject and at the same time, wanting to keep Shaw protected, if he could.

Finch took a deep breath before he spoke, "Ms. Shaw came in early this morning - very hungover or possibly still intoxicated."

John frowned, "That doesn't sound like Shaw, what did she say?"

"She denied that anything was wrong, and seemed rather eager to get started with the numbers."

"And?" John waited for Harold to continue.

"And Mr. Reese, she communicated all this to me while her head was wedged between the cushions on Bear's bead."

"Oh."

\-------

She hit the corner store before heading back to her place, heaving a twelve pack of beer onto the counter along with about 8 slim jims, "Fifth of Glenfiddich 15, and a pack of Marlboro Reds."

She put the beer in the fridge and brought the bottle with her to the small sofa.Opening up her laptop she googled sociopath + love:

_People high in psychopathy still form romantic relationships, whether or not they get married or establish a committed bond. Such a relationship, however, may not be based on psychological intimacy in the traditional sense of the word. Instead, similar to “Bonnie and Clyde." a couple may enter into a relationship based on a shared sort of view of the world in which both try to get as much out of other people as possible. Their lack of empathy and ability to express deep emotions may lead, if not to a violent end, then to dissolution based on increasingly destructive patterns of interaction with each other._

The Bonnie and Clyde part made her laugh -- that analogy kinda fit. The rest seemed like bullshit, so she started surfing different sites, looking at stupid cat videos, listening to music, drinking bourbon and smoking cigarettes. On a whim she typed Samantha Groves + Texas into the search bar.

Nothing. Not that she'd imagined there would be, but still...She stared at the screen, absentmindedly flipping her knife open and closed, lost in thoughts she tried desperately to push away.

With a lit cigarette between her teeth, she twirled the knife point cruelly against her carotid artery, testing the limits of skin when her webcam blinked and an IRC screen opened up in the browser.

>> Are you drunk before noon?

_Holy shit_

She typed quickly:

>> where are you?

>> I'm safe, you don't need to worry.

"Of course I'm fucking worried - what am I supposed to say to that?" Shaw was poised and ready at the keys, simply unsure how to proceed.

>> Just say the truth, Sam.

>> you've got the machine surveilling me?? She eyed the webcam suspiciously.

>> No, She alerted me when Samantha Groves' name was googled.

>> Why are you googling me?

>> are you going to tell me where you are?

>> I can't see you right now Sam, I'm sorry

"GOD- Dammit!" Shaw's closed hand came down hard on the coffee table, scattering papers and cigarette butts everywhere.

>> what did I do that was so terrible? you don't show up for months and expect me to wait????

>> It was a week, Sam.

Shaw's heart sunk even lower, she knew what Root was talking about. She typed quickly, teeth worrying at her lip.

>> it's not what you think

>> I came to see you a week after Ibiza, but you seemed to be otherwise engaged.

>> please listen to me, it's not what you think, I swear

>> Did I misinterpret the sight of your mouth between another woman's legs?

_Oh shit_.

The cursor continued to blink, as if mocking her.

>> i thought you were gone

>> they didn't mean anything to me

>> ~~you mean something to me~~

She quickly deleted that last line before sending.

>> I'm not angry with you, I just want to know why.

>> then let me see you, let's talk in person

>> I can't right now, Sam.

>> how am I supposed to fix this?????

>> You can start by being honest. And stop drinking so much, and get rid of those nasty cigarettes.

>> ok, she typed, but the connection had been terminated.


	4. Chapter 4

Root had never been particularly adept at navigating the waters of romance. She was simply too strong and self-sufficient to fall for fucked-up, ordinary people. In her opinion, those types of relationships arose and persisted out of need. No, Root had leaned early on not to need people. A child only has to touch the stove once to understand that it burns and it hurts, and to never, ever try again.

She had had very few sexual partners and she only slept with women. She had not been in love as an adult, and this was the way she liked it. No guilt, no expectations and no hurt feelings left behind.

And then there was Shaw.

Shaw with all her strength and vigor - so much power packed into a pretty, explosive little package. And with her quick mind and sharp wit, Root had been intrigued from that first moment; her senses tingled and her blood sang in recognition of the possibilities between them. Root didn't understand it then, but later she worked it out; They _knew_ each other and when they came together, it was almost as if they had long since parted and were now, finally reuniting after some millennial absence.

And she was taking a lot of painkillers.

\-------

After Ibiza, Root was in high spirits. Despite what Shaw had threatened, she didn't leave after their first night together. Instead they spent three glorious days drinking and laughing on the beach, and four hot, steamy nights tangled together, exploring every inch of each other's bodies.

There had been some hiccups, too. They were drugged at a club, Shaw tried unsuccessfully to lock herself away from Root, fearing what would happen if they were left alone together, they tied a guy up in the basement of the hotel, and Shaw - mistakenly thinking Root had been responsible for drugging her, tattooed her initials on Root's ass while she was passed out asleep.

It was one of the best times Root can remember having.

She had some work to do in Singapore before heading back to the States, and she left while Shaw was in the shower on that last day. She hoped Shaw didn't think this was cruel - just that Root didn't care much for goodbyes, and if she was being honest - she didn't want to make Shaw feel awkward when they parted. _Do they hug? Kiss? Punch each other_?

\-------

She flew all night and landed at La Guardia at 2 am local time. Tired but happy, she made her way to Shaw's place, stopping briefly in a bar to get a drink and splash some water on her tired face. She ordered a vodka tonic and headed for the restroom.

Animal sounds of two people kissing hit her full force, someone was getting it on in one of the stalls. _Gross_ , Root thought, until she heard a very familiar voice.

"Shut up and turn around..." The voice ordered, gruffly.

Root froze.

 _No. It can't be_.

She peeked through the gaps in the stall and sure enough, there was Shaw - _her_ Shaw - with her mouth buried between a willowy brunette's legs.

Root launched herself out through the door and onto the street - she knelt down on the cold concrete and was violently ill. 

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

Three days after their internet chat, Shaw still hadn't seen Root. She had however, gone through her apartment with a trash bag - disposing of the random collection of empty bottles and cans, caps haphazardly thrown in every corner and ashtrays full of butts. She filled three large garbage bags and hauled them out to the street.

She also changed her sheets and threw out the stack of hardcore girl-on-girl magazines tucked under the bed. Shaw had been with a couple of women here and there years before she became a card-carrying member of Team Machine, but she had never felt anything remotely close to the hunger she felt when she was with Root. She had been trying unsuccessfully to replicate that feeling ever since... a junkie chasing the high.  

And true, she had been drugged that first night in Ibiza, but in all honesty, that only afforded her an excuse to throw caution to the wind and act upon the desire she'd felt the moment Root zip-tied her arms to that chair so long ago.

She stretched and sighed loudly, shaking her head - she was so out of her depth here, but Root just might turn out to be the one person from whom Shaw could not walk away at a moment's notice. 

Root made her break all her rules.

\-------

Neither Harold nor John had spoken of her previous bad behavior and things felt somewhat back to normal at the subway station. Save for one missing member whose name they danced around, but no one dared mention.

\-------

Shaw hit the lights and killed the engine while rolling silently to a stop outside of a chop shop. She, John and Fusco were gathering intel on their latest number. It had been about a week since the _incident_ at the hospital: at least that was what Shaw was officially calling it, and she was pretty sure Fusco wouldn't mention it.

Fusco was simple enough to take it on its face: Shaw was worried about her friend and partner and dealt with things true to her nature. Reese knew that it was something much deeper and Finch would have blown a _fuse_ if he knew the extent to which Shaw's behavior had put them all, especially Root, in jeopardy.

About an hour in, it became clear that it would probably be a long, cold night so Fusco went home to take care of his son while Reese and Shaw hunkered down with the thermos of coffee Harold had graciously provided - warm in their bulky parkas and gloves.

John knew he might not get a chance like this again anytime soon, so he decided to push a little. "So, how's _everything_?" He sipped at the dark, sweet coffee - just the way Shaw liked it.

"Everything?" Why did she always have to make things so hard.

He could make things hard too, "With you and Root."

Shaw turned her head sharply to face him, eyebrows raised, "Really, John?"

"Really, Shaw."

"Ok, what?" She huffed, crossing her arms tight across her chest behind the steering wheel.

He briefly put his hands up, palms facing forward in a peaceful gesture . "I do have eyes, you know."

She could minimize, but she couldn't blatantly lie to John. "I know," she sighed, looking away.

"So... you can talk to me."

"I don't even know what to say."

"Try." He leaned his head back into the seat and closed his eyes. Minutes tick by, John knows that Shaw won't (or can't) open up and he feels deeply for her. If it's one thing he knows well, it's the pain associated with love. He wishes he could somehow help her, this dark and complicated woman of whom he has grown so fond.

"We slept together." She blurted out all at once.

Johns eyes widened in surprise as the corner of his mouth began to curl upwards, but he caught himself before Shaw could take note; she would bloody _shank_ him if she saw that look. "Ok," he soothed, urging her on cautiously. "And now?"

She made a _pfft_ sound with her closed lips, "Now I don't know wether I'm coming or going."

"She's angry with you?" John ventured.

"Yeah," she huffed sarcastically, "slightly."

"So, what are you going to do about it?"

"I don't know," She laughs cruelly and gestures with her coffee cup, sloshing liquid onto her pants, "she won't even see me."

"But you want to," John questioned gently, looking Shaw right in the eye, "do something about it?"

"Yeah." she whispered looking down at her boots, her breath making soft clouds in the cold air.

They sat again in silence.

"If you don't mind my asking, what's she mad about?" John tried again.

Shaw took a deep breath and let it tumble out: Ibiza, all the women afterward, Root showing up at her place and finding a a woman there, their conversation in the hospital, Root's refusal to see her -- Shaw uncharacteristically came clean to John in her simplistic, matter-of-fact style - well mostly clean, anyway.

"So what do you want now?" John asked pointedly after listening to her speak for longer than all the times she'd spoken to him previously put together.

"My brain and my body are telling me totally different things."

"Ok well," John smiled and sipped his coffee, "looks like we've got some time, why don't you start with your brain."

 


	6. Chapter 6

"I hate even having to talk about this shit," she said, stuffing a large piece of doughnut into her mouth.

"Well, what's the alternative?" John asked.

"Eating my gun, maybe?" The edges of her mouth turning up slightly.

"Not funny, Shaw." John frowned 

"I just don't have any experience with this kind of shit. Feelings fucking suck. People try to use them against you, or they turn you into a two-timing liar and you end up losing your goddamn mind." She shook her head and made a grotesque sound, like they were talking about leeches or something.

"Sounds like you've got it bad, my friend." He chuckled, no longer handling her with kid gloves.

"Thanks," she rolled her eyes at him, "you're a big help."

"Well, ok. So how do you feel when you're with her?" He asked, sincerely trying.

She made that face - the one that pre-adolescents usually made when asked about the opposite sex.

"Ok how about this; how do you feel when you see other people flirt with her?"

"Are we talking about the same person?" Shaw joked.

"Root's a beautiful woman, Shaw. She's bound to get plenty of looks and offers - how does that make you feel?"

Damn, John was really putting the screws to her. Was it Be Mean to Shaw Month or something?

"When did you become a fucking therapist?" She snarked, letting out a long breath - not aware that she was holding it. "It makes me feel like I want to rip people's hearts out and then feed it to them. How's _that_ for a feeling?" 

John grinned and laughed, a warm, rich sound - patting her on the back. "You know you're in love, right?"

"That's what I'm afraid of," she said under her breath as their number finally stepped out into the street.

\-------

Root's recovery was slow going this time. She had been so confident, even careless - traipsing around to remote corners of the world at Her request, cavalierly putting her safety in grave danger time after time -- like it meant nothing.

After Root had seen Shaw with that woman in the restroom, she had been arrogant and downright reckless. And this last time, blatantly ignoring the warnings She sent, pushing for just one more shot, one more bad guy, one more win - before all hell broke loose and she went crashing down into an abyss of concrete and steel.

She really thought she was dying and despite the Machine's insistent warnings to seek medical attention, Root only wanted to see Shaw. If she truly was dying, a distinct possibility, given the severity of her injuries, she could finally swallow her pride and go to her. What did she have to lose at that point? 

Apatently a lot, as there was a woman in Shaw's bed. Shaw, who literally had to be _drugged_ before she would sleep with _her_ , had left a woman alone in her bed. In her space. A beautiful woman who was strong enough to challenge a jealous ex-lover holding a gun.

She thought about it - for a split second, she truly considered the option. It would have been so easy, just pull the trigger and then nothing; no more pain, no more loneliness or yearning for someone who didn't love her back. She was so tired.

But somehow she wrenched herself away from that ledge - her thoughts on Shaw. She simply could not leave a world with Sameen Shaw in it without a fight. Besides, how could she leave Her and Harold this way, who would continue their cause? Who would wash her blood off the walls of Shaw's apartment? All she remembers after that is standing up to leave. The rest, as they say, is a mystery. Root did have some concerns about that gun, though. Concerns she kept to herself for the time being.

It had all happened so fast. She was in an ambulance, she pulled a knife on the poor EMT and tried to escape from the moving vehicle - dizzy with fever and filled with fear that they'd find her implant via some scan and try to remove it. And then Shaw was there, holding her hand, acting like she cared. Shaw's violent temper rearing its ugly head the moment she didn't get her way. Those bloody knuckles weren't for Root - they were for Shaw, who used the physical pain to mask the sting of Root's disaffection.

She realized she was being bitter and more than a little unfair, but she was tired of being nice. It's true, Shaw had explicitly _not_ promised her anything, but her words and her body just didn't synch. Their bodies together melted her words into lies. They both knew that. Didn't they? Root wasn't so sure anymore, her faith in Shaw had been whittled down to almost nothing.

Shaw was, hands down, the most dangerous thing Root had ever handled. And that was saying a lot. Root could have had ten different models of Shaw in as many ports. She was constantly being hit on by both men and women, and could have had her pick of any number of beautiful, interesting and powerful people over the years, but she was never truly that interested. Sure, there were a few times when she sought out others to fulfill her needs, but these were often more trouble that they were worth. She had never met anyone who seemed worth the hassle of staying over or kissing goodbye or ever knowing their name. She preferred her space to be _hers_ , anyone else felt like an intruder.

What Root lacked in practical experience, she more than made up for in knowledge. She read a lot of obscure erotica and had a very sophisticated palate that leaned toward the perverse. Her head swam with images of violence and surrender while making herself come over and over again until she was sweaty and limp. She had never been with anyone who had made her feel better than her own hand.

Until Shaw. God, she was so tired of obsessing about this. It was better before, before they'd been physical. At least then there had been hope - it hadn't all been shattered to shit. They flirted and laughed, and things were easy and good between them. She'd always wanted more, that's true -- but it had been satisfying then, that stage of their relationship.

And then she had to go and fuck it all up. Truth be told, she had help in this, but she always took the blame, because that's what Root did. They had slept together. No, they had _collided_. Root felt a surge of heat spread across her chest as she thought about it. Even now, months later, the memory still carried with it a zing that ripped through her every single time it played out in her mind. It was like lightning - electricity danced between them, dangerous and hot, arcing when they touched. Root had to take a deep breath. No one. _No one_ ever had come close.

Lying in bed in one of Harold's safe houses, Root was bored. She shamelessly checked on Shaw at regular intervals, instructing the machine to violate Shaw's boundaries whenever she wished. She knew about the cleanup of Shaw's disgusting apartment, knew about the magazines and empty bottles in the trash (cctv), and she knew that there had been no more women - so far. What she didn't know was what Shaw was feeling.

She laughed. The absurdity of 'Shaw' and 'feeling' in the same sentence. T _hat's so stupid_ , she thought and suddenly grinned widely, a far away look in her eyes.

_Search engine: "Samantha Groves" + "Texas" initiated._

She waited, not sure how she wanted to proceed. Adrenaline rushed through her veins and made her hands shake. She quickly typed:

 _ >> What are you up to? _ _  
_

_ >> I was wondering how you were? _

Root smiled.

>> I've been better, but I'm going to live. How are you?

_> > Root? _

She took a breath and held it.

_> > Yes? _

_> > Can we please talk? _

Did she really want to get into this again? It was doomed from the start. Shaw was Root's kryptonite. Should she shut it down now to save herself from future heartbreak? She bit down crookedly, took a deep breath and then threw herself to the wolves.

_> > Yes Sameen, we can talk. _


	7. Chapter 7

She shouldn't have pressed Root to talk when she had no idea what she wanted to say. She had expected Root to say no again, and she had asked without thinking it through. She looked over the chat log:

 _> > Yes, Sameen, we can talk_.

_> > Can I see you? _

Shaw had waited for what seemed like forever before Root responded, feeling that same sting of rejection she had felt in the hospital when Root wouldn't hold her hand. And then finally, it came:

_> > I'll text you the address. _

She said yes! Shaw felt her chest loosen momentarily before it seized up again. _What the fuck was she supposed to do now_? Now she just had to go there and talk to her. _Just go there and talk to her. Just go over there. Bring her something. Maybe?_ Shaw was beginning to doubt herself; a feeling she had rarely experienced. She took a shower and dressed quickly, throwing on jeans, a wife beater and a black leather jacket.

\-------

She wasn't prepared for Root's appearance - her breath caught as she laid eyes on her: bruised, thin and hollow - she had seen Root hurt plenty of times, but she had never seen Root like this. In the hospital, Root had been covered by blankets and an oxygen mask, she hadn't seen the lacerations on her arms and neck, not to mention the clearly visible raw, pink gash under Root's chin. Shaw would recognize that type of scar anywhere - the cruel, clean line of a knife. She felt nauseated.

"What the hell were you _thinking_?!!" She said, her hands flying to Root’s shoulders as her pupils dilated in anger - hot rage welling up inside her like a wave, threatening to break. "Where was your _backup_?? Where was your fucking _machine_?!?"

Root craned her head to one side in a childish attempt to conceal the scar - willing herself to control her breathing. _It had been a mistake to let Shaw come here_. She was not ready for this.

"Look at me." She tried to turn Root's head back towards her.

"Stop." Root hung her head and exhaled. Shaw's arms fell to her side - defeated.

 _This had been a mistake. Why had she come here? What did they have to talk about_? Shaw balled her fists and swore never to let anyone get close again.

Root exhaled sharply and grabbed Shaw by the wrist, tugging her into the living room. _Someone had to be the adult here_. "Sit," She commanded, directing Shaw to a chair opposite the sofa.

She eyed the finely appointed flat, a joke about Finch paying them a more competitive salary on her tongue... until... _jesus_ , she could have lived her whole life without seeing _that_. Root had winced sharply as she lowered herself onto the low sofa.

She was at her side in an instant. "Let me see," she demanded, lifting the hem of Root's shirt.

She swallowed hard and tried to remain objective. She was trained in trauma - this should have been cake. But this was _Root_ \- seeing her this way, skin ragged and raw... Shaw felt as if she were being slowly and deliberately choked out by some invisible force.

"What doctor have you been seeing?" Her fingers becoming confident, finding their purpose - poking and prodding at Root beneath her clothing.

"I'm fine," Root's hands were firm on Shaw's arms, attempting to still her. "It's just taking awhile this time."

"This _time_?!?" She was practically yelling.

"Sameen, please." Root said softly, suddenly exhausted.

Silence between them again. Shaw reclaimed her perch on the chair, across from Root.

"I'm sorry. I just. I'm sorry, I don't," She swallowed, "I don't like seeing you like this."

Root could plainly see that Shaw was making an effort, but her motives remained a mystery. Shaw sure seemed to want her when she withdrew her affection, but to what end? Would she simply be one of the many, one more person to discard after Shaw had taken her fill? Anger was quickly replacing feelings of confusion and sadness. "So..." She cleared her throat and looked pointedly at Shaw, "what did you want to talk about?"

\-------

"Oh that," She grinned that lopsided grin, charming as ever.

Root was determined to remain outwardly unaffected, "Yes, that." Her eyes like heat seeking missiles, trained on Shaw's.

Shaw truly felt like she was going to die, "I don't know where to start," she began, eyebrows set in a sharp "v", hands playing at a nubby throw pillow.

Root decided to make it easier for both of them, "You're sober, aren't you?"

"As a judge," Shaw mocked a military salute.

"There's a bottle of Macallan 25 in the study." She watched Shaw's face light up like Christmas. "And bring two glasses."

_Oh thank you thank you thank you._

Shaw had relaxed and was sitting on the chair, knees pulled tight into her chest. It felt kind of nice being in the same room with Root again, but she knew that Root was going to make her talk and she couldn't imagine what that was going to look like.

\-------

If Shaw knew how cute she looked, all scrunched up and worried like that, she'd never make that face again. Root was beginning to realize that if she didn't lead this, nothing would ever be said between them.

If she wanted answers, she was going to have to pull them out of Shaw - one at a time. Her mind briefly wandered onto an image of something else she had pulled out of Shaw once, and she blushed. She pushed the dangerous thought out of her mind and looked at Shaw.

"Who was the first?"

Shaw's eyes went comically wide - like one of those exaggerated cartoon characters who has lightning bolts coming out of their ears when their finger gets caught in a electrical socket or something. "The first?"

If Root's heart wasn't so bruised, she could have had a lot of fun torturing Shaw with this type of questioning. "The first woman you fucked."

She sure wasn't gonna make this easy, Shaw took a large gulp of whisky, "Before or after our trip?"

 _Roots face = wrong answer_.

She closed her eyes and shook her head, almost in awe of Shaw's complete and utter lack of finesse. " _After_."

"There was one, in a bar..." She stammered.

"How _long_ after?" Root pressed.

"About a week." Shaw admitted.

"A _week_." It wasn't a question.

_God, why did people do that weird shit with their faces? She's gonna kick me out in 3-2-1..._

"Why, Sam?" Not sure she wanted to know  

Shaw faltered, feeling like she had missed the last step going up a long flight of stairs. "I wanna tell you..." She bit down hard on her lip, frozen in mid sentence.

Watching Shaw struggle like that - Root felt her chest go all warm and tingly. Her stomach fluttered and her heart flooded with fiercely protective feelings for this woman she was so crazy about. She hesitated, tempted to rescue Shaw and ease her suffering - to let it all go. But how then, would she ever _really_ know? She forged on. "What was her name?"

"I don't know." Shaw admitted.

"Did you initiate it?"

"Yes." Shaw took another swallow.

"Did you see her again?"

"No."

"Did she fuck you?" Root almost didn't want to know.

"No," she answered immediately in a manner that suggested Root ought to know better than to ask.

Root let Shaw get away with her arrogance for the time being, "Did _any_ of them fuck you?"

"God no," Shaw replied gruffly, true to form.

"And that bitch at your apartment" Root _glared_ at her. 

"One time."

Root paused for a moment and looked at Shaw, a wounded expression playing around her eyes. "How many?"

"You really want a number?" Panicked, her eyes rolled upwards, ostensibly in calculation.

She set her jaw and closed her eyes, "No, I think I _get_ it," she huffed, voice tinged with irritation. It was a lame, emotional response and she hated herself a little for it.

She didn't lose her temper like this, not with Shaw. She tried again, gentler this time, "How do _you_ feel about it?"

"About the sex stuff?" Shaw was officially fucking clueless when it came to anything even remotely emotional.

Root wanted to reach across the coffee table and throttle her. " _Yeah_."

"Awful," Shaw admitted. "I feel sick about it."

_Maybe they were getting somewhere._

Root felt a shift in the energy between them and looked up, suddenly afraid to breathe. "Why do you feel sick?" She asked quietly.

Shaw shut her eyes tight and braced herself for impact. She took a deep breath and made her first ever leap of faith, 

"Because I'm in love with you."

\-----------


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Grr. These are always so hard for me to wrap up.  
> I hope this pleases everyone. I love to read your comments and opinions, so please, keep it up.  
> Thanks for hanging with me.  
> :)

The air had grown thick between them and both women jumped in surprise as the door to the top floor apartment suddenly opened without warning. "Good evening , Ms. Groves. I've brought you some supplies and a refill on your pain _medication_ -" He stopped short, eyes widening considerably. "Hello, Ms. Shaw."

"Hi Harry, Sam just came by to check on me," Root chimed in quickly, a worried smile playing across her lips.

Harold looked from Root to Shaw and back again, as confused and uncomfortable as ever.

"Ok, well, glad you're ok." Shaw mumbled as she inched towards the door, "Hope you feel better."

Roots eyes pleaded with Shaw's - _stay_. Knowing full well she wouldn't, she managed a "Thanks for coming by to check on me," as Shaw practically bolted through the door.

\-------

Well that had been a disaster. She had never in a million years planned to tell Root she loved her. It was as big of a surprise to her as it probably had been to Root and Shaw felt utterly wrecked. She didn't feel better, in fact, she felt worse. Her first thought as she descended the stairs onto the street was that she had to get rid of this feeling ASAP.

It had begun to rain as Shaw walked home. It was after eleven, and she debated whether to stop by her local pub or get a bottle - she decided on the former and headed into a small place around the corner.

Wasn't too busy for a weekend, she thought, as she took a place at the counter. Three drinks later, she was feeling somewhat better. She could hardly bring herself to go back in her mind and replay the conversation, cringing every time she heard it in her head, _I'm in love with you_. _What a pussy_ , she thought and then laughed to herself - at her choice of words.

"Compliments of the gentleman." The bartender gestured toward a dark haired hipster dude in a cardigan as he brought her another.

"Thanks." She mouthed, saluting him with her glass, knowing that if he had been an attractive woman, she'd be in the doghouse again. She really could use some dirty, anonymous sex to clear her mind right now. She longed for the feeling of reckless abandon, however brief, that fucking stranger provided. _No_. She shook the thought from her head, threw some cash onto the bar and made her way home.

\-------

Harold had left and Root was finally alone with her thoughts. Her mind was blown. She had never imagined the night would end like this. It had all happened so fast - they were talking, finally talking, and then Shaw had said she loved her. Not simply that she loved her, she was _in love_ with her. And then just as quickly, Shaw was gone again.

Speaking of Shaw - Root smiled and thought about how she was probably feeling right about now. If she knew Shaw, she was most likely drunk and ... It slowly dawned on her: she did know Shaw. Very well, as a matter of fact. And she knew that Shaw tried to chase her feelings away with alcohol and violence and sex. Root began to worry.

\-------

Shaw closed one eye so the lock would stay still long enough for her to insert the key. All that booze on an empty stomach had caught up with her and she was more than a little unsteady. She tried again with the key, slower this time.

"Looks like you need some help," She cooed, walking up behind Shaw and slipping her hands around her warm torso. "Remember me?" She breathed hotly in Shaw's ear.

Shaw turned the key and the door flew open, spilling them both onto the floor of the apartment.

"What do you want?" Shaw barked.

"This." Lauren rolled on top of her, pressing her lips to Shaw's.

An MRI of Shaw's brain would have shown a veritable rainbow of colors. She groaned and tangled a fist in Lauren's hair, pulling her closer...

\-------

Root's heart had slowed to something approaching normal, but her head was still spinning. She wasn't sure how she felt. Hearing that Shaw loved her was fucking amazing, that much she knew, but she didn't know whether she could trust it. They had talked and Shaw had come clean but they were nowhere near a solution. Root worried that she understood Shaw's motives even less now.

She was worried about Shaw. If Root was shaken, she could only imagine how Shaw felt. The thing about Shaw was, she could handle practically any situation like a pro. She could  diffuse the bomb, rescue everyone and save the day, but intense feelings were probably the one thing that could take her out. She didn't know Shaw's phone number so she contacted her the only way she knew how - she accessed her laptop's web cam.

\-------

Lauren kissed Shaw deeper, harder - suddenly unable to get enough. "I need you." She groaned into Shaw's mouth.

A searing pain ripped through Shaw - only one person was allowed to need her. She pushed the other woman away with so much force, she hit her head on the door frame. "Get out." Shaw spat, struggling to her feet.

"Don't tell me," Lauren said, smoothing her hair, "you're back together with your gun wielding ex?"

She came close to the woman, using her body to threaten, "Get the fuck out."

"Well you don't have to get nasty." She reached into her bag and brought out a small item, wrapped in an oilcloth. Dropping it on the table by the door, she walked away. "Call me when you change your mind."

"Don't hold your breath." She bolted the door and exhaled, listening for the sound of footsteps to disappear before pulling her coat back on.

\-------

Harold really should invest in a better security system. Shaw had gained entry and hacked the elevator security code in a matter of seconds. Root had pulled this trick with Shaw a few times, even tasering her once while she was sleeping - but she still felt uneasy, invading Root's space like this. 

She crept through the darkened living room and down the hall - heading towards a small sliver of light. She pushed the door open slowly and knelt at the side of the bed. "Hi." She whispered, her hand coming to rest on top of Root's. 

\-------

Root closed her laptop and laid it to the side. She had witnessed the events at Shaw's apartment firsthand via Shaw's webcam. And while she wasn't thrilled that Shaw had made out with yet another woman, she was smart enough to know that Shaw's heart was hers. She had stopped because of her. 

"Come here." She reached out her arms and wrapped them around Shaw, pulling her close. 

Being careful not to lean too much on Root's ribs, Shaw let herself be drawn into the arms of the one person she loved. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "I'm sorry." 

"This is your last pass." She breathed, running her fingers over Shaw's back and shoulders. 

"I know." She whispered, inhaling Root's hair. 

Root reached up to turn off the light, inhaling sharply at the pain of having to stretch. Shaw got up and quickly hit the switch herself, plunging the room into blackness, save for the faint glow of the moon. She gingerly laid next to Root, their heads sharing the pillow. 

"You came back?" Root asked quietly. 

"It didn't feel like we were done." Shaw's voice was warm and soft. This was much easier in the dark. 

Root's heart did a little flip flop at the sound of Shaw's velvety voice. "We will be if..." She faltered. "If there are any more. Do you understand?"

Shaw groaned and rolled her face into the pillow. "Yeah." Tonight had been a turning point of sorts. She had realized that Root was the only one she wanted and being with anyone else just felt wrong. That's where the panic in her chest had come from - she knew it now. She stretched alongside Root, feeling her body come alive. 

\-------

Root closed her eyes and allowed herself to relax into the movement of Shaw's fingers. Up, down, in and out - Root moaned as Shaw's strong palms kneaded the back of her shoulders. "God this is so good," she whispered as Shaw ran her thumbs across tight muscles on either side of her spine. 

Root moaned again as Shaw's fingers made their way up to her collarbone, working the muscles at her chest. A few inches lower and she would have Root's nipples between her fingers. Root leaned back into Shaw who knelt behind her, needing more contact. Halfway wishing Shaw would cross the line. 

Root craned her head to the side, locking eyes with Shaw in the moonlight. "I want this," Shaw said. "I want _you_." 

Root turned around and took Shaw's face in her hands, placing the softest, most delicate kiss on her lips. Shaw felt warmth well up inside her. The feel of Root's lips pressed against hers was all the evidence she needed. This wasn't a diversion or lust or infatuation - this was something bigger than she had ever felt before. This was love. She leaned forward - wanting to taste Root's lips again. 

"Kiss me," Shaw demanded. 

Root's breath caught as she pulled away, a moan escaping her lips. "I can't." She said. 

Shaw was dizzy with longing, "Why?" She said, suddenly worried that Root might have changed her mind. 

"Because," A fingertip playing at Shaw's bottom lip. "You need to get some blood tests first." 

Of course. Shaw hadn't even thought of that. "I'll go tomorrow." She said, making sure she maintained eye contact. 

"And we're going to have to wait until I'm fully healed." Root said, smiling at Shaw's willingness to abide by her demands. 

Shaw succumbed to the smile and planted a kiss on the cheek of the beautiful woman sitting in front of her. "And why is that?" 

Root leaned in and rested her chin on Shaw's shoulder. "Because I'm going to want you to hurt me again." She whispered, both women groaning in unison. 

\------------

xxx


End file.
